


A New Way To Live

by mrs_squirrel_chester



Series: The Riley Files [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean Winchester / Original Female Character - Freeform, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-23 16:13:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4883374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_squirrel_chester/pseuds/mrs_squirrel_chester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part 1 of the Riley Files. Detective Riley Messer just watched her partner get gunned down in cold blood. Now, there are two FBI agents asking for her help in nabbing a serial killer. What's really going on and can she handle the truth? Rated T for mild violence and language. Set during season 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Snow crunched under boots as they pounded into the ground. The air was bordering on bitter and it stung lungs as it was pulled in with each gasping breath.

"Detective Messer in pursuit on foot. Headed South on Fifth."

The walkie clicked twice before a staticy voice answered _,_ "Copy that. Unit 572 is headed North to assist. All units be advised, plain clothed detective is in pursuit on foot."

"Unit 572, copy. Five minutes out."

Detective Messer swallowed hard at the cold air and watched as the six foot tall cop killer pushed further away. She swore loudly and punched the walkie button on her shoulder, "I don't have five minutes, guys."

"Unit 572, that's the best we got." Sirens echoed through the walkie before cutting short.

"Son of a bitch."

Morgan, M&M, Monaghan took a sharp right, sliding on some ice, but not falling. It was enough to get her just a little closer to him. "Morgan, stop! CPD!"

His laughter was carried on the breeze, "Screw you!"

A flash of light erupted from his hand as he spun around. The snow at her feet puffed as the bullet struck the ground. Another flash and another puff of snow as she side stepped his aim.

"You're a shitty shot, Morgan."

He tore off down the alley when his bullets didn't take her down. Apparently he didn't know that it was a dead end.

"Shots fired. Headed down the alley behind Pablo's."

"Unit 572, three minutes out."

Messer rounded the corner just before something hard slammed into her stomach. She fell to the ground with a grunt, the 9 mm gun slipping from her hand. Her dinner threatened to show itself, but she swallowed hard. A plank of wood clattered on the ground before a set of hands grabbed the front of her coat.

A grunt was forced out as Morgan slammed her against the brick wall. Frantic beats of a drum and guitar riffs drifted out an open office window; Pablo's was busy tonight. Messer couldn't catch her breath and she worked hard to squash the fear as it rose in her chest. She grabbed the hands at her chest and stared into the dark eyes of the man that killed her partner.

"Shoulda stayed with your partner, bitch," his breath was hot and smelled of cigarettes and whiskey.

She felt her feet rise off the snow packed ground, "Sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart."

Morgan screeched in pain as she twisted his thumb back, popping it out of the socket. She threw her weight into her right arm and thrust her elbow into his cheekbone. Practically jumping off the ground, she followed up with a left hook.

Morgan stumbled back enough that she was clear of the wall. Grabbing the handcuffs from the small of her back, she grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back, "Morgan, you're under arrest for murder-"

He swept his leg and spun, throwing the detective off balance. His fist connected with her jaw and littered her vision with bursts of light. With his unbroken hand, he grabbed her jacket and pulled her up from the impending fall to the ground, "You were saying?"

Messer spat a mouthful of blood into his face and brought her knee up into his groin. Morgan doubled over with a grunt, his hands covering the pained area. "You're under arrest," she kneed him in the chest, "you have the right to an attorney," the crunch of his nose from her knee was drowned out by the music. "If you cannot afford one, one will be provided to you by the state," he fell to his knees in the snow and Messer grabbed the cuffs she dropped earlier. "Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?"

* * *

 

"Well, I don't think they're broken."

Messer winced as the doctor ran his hands over the ever growing purple bruise on her ribs, "So, I can go home, right?"

Doctor Lancaster sighed as he straightened. He reached out and ran a thumb over the large red and purple spot on her jaw, "I can't keep you here."

She stood with a groan, pulling her shirt down, "Thanks, Doc."

Lancaster watched as the detective attached the holster to the inside of her jeans, concealing it beneath her burgundy shirt. The shine of her badge pulled his eyes away from the celtic knot she had on her hip bone. "Hey, Riley?"

Riley tucked her hair behind her ear, showing off the bruise, "Yeah?"

"Good job tonight."

"Um, thanks."

Lancaster looped the stethoscope around his neck, "I'm sorry to hear about Brandon."

Riley blinked rapidly at the tears that sprang to life, "Yeah, uh, me too."

"You know, if you need someone to talk to...” the implication of the continuation of their one night stand hung thick in the air. 

"I'm sure my captain will give me the card to a _wonderful_ psychologist, Ian, but thank you." Riley grabbed her black tweed coat and left before Ian could say anything further. She needed to get back to the office, paperwork beckoned and IA wouldn't stand for anything less than perfection. Especially when one of their own was gunned down in cold blood.

* * *

"Messer, get in here please." 

Riley finished typing the last sentence of her first hand account before reporting to Sergeant Waters' office. "Sir?"

Waters' eyes fell to the blossom of color on Riley's jaw, "How you holding up?"

She would have shrugged if it didn't feel like an elephant was sitting on her chest, "Just finished my report to give to IA."

Waters threaded his fingers together, "I asked how you were holding up not how your report was coming."

"I'm fine, Sarge."

"Why don't I believe you?"

Riley blew out a harsh breath. She hadn't slept since the night before and she was running strictly on caffeine, her adrenaline completely depleted after Morgan was thrown into the back of the squad. "Where do we go from here?"

Her sergeant ran a hand through his hair, "Well, that's part of the reason I called you in here." A red button was pressed. "Marcia, please send them in."

Two people walked past the floor to ceiling windows and entered without a knock. Riley stood slowly, trying not to grunt in pain. "Sergeant Waters, thank you for seeing us."

"Agents Page and Plant, this is Detective Messer. She will be your point of contact while you are here."

Riley looked hard at each of the agents. FBI, yeah right. Rather than call bull shit, she greeted each of the agents.

The taller one, Plant, wore his shaggy brown hair over his ears; against FBI regulation. His hand completely enveloped hers in greeting, but didn't try overpower her in the stereotypical alpha dog way.

Agent Page was slightly shorter than his partner and had green eyes that could become a problem. He gave off an air of confidence that could easily rub her the wrong way. She got the feeling she would have her hands full with this one.

"Detective Messer. What can we at CPD help you with?"

* * *

 

Dean slid a folder across the conference room table, "We believe that there is a serial killer in Chicago."

Riley scoffed as the file slid under her hand, "If there was a serial killer in my town, I'd know about it."

Sam smiled at the detective, "You can't know everything that goes on, Detective Messer."

She fixed him with a determined look, "Agent... Plant, is it? You don't know anything about me or what I know, so if you don't mind, put a lid on it."

Dean failed to hide his laugh behind a cough, "Detective, we're just here on orders. There have been multiple murders that fit the profile."

Riley rolled her eyes. She hated working with people like this; cocky, arrogant, egotistical. "What'd brass have to say?"

Sam came to stand behind Dean and re-buttoned his suit jacket, "Full cooperation."

Brown eyes pinned Sam to the spot where he stood, "He may have said you have the department's full cooperation, but don't for one minute think that you have mine."

"We're just trying to get justice for the families, Messer."

Riley met Dean's gaze and felt herself falter slightly. His moss green eyes honest to goodness sparkled. In florescent lighting no less. "My city, my rules, boys. You share everything, I do the same."

"We're in this together, sweetheart," Dean winked and Riley rolled her eyes for the second time.

"I ain't your sweetheart, Page."

Sam scowled at Dean, his brows pulled together, "You'll have to forgive my partner, Messer."

Riley stood, signaling the end of the meeting. The pain in her ribs roared as her body stretched involuntarily and she tried hard not to groan. "I assume the file is mine to look over?"

Dean stood, dragging his eyes appreciatively over the small frame of Riley, "You can look over anything you like."

"Oh my God, are you serious right now?" Riley ran a hand through her hair.

Sam reached out and smacked Dean in the shoulder, his fist closed. "Ow, man!"

Wide hazel eyes stared hard at Dean, who just shrugged it off with a smile, "Yes, the file is yours to look over."

"Please see yourselves out. If you'll excuse me, I have to see a widow about a funeral."

* * *

 

Sam tossed his jacket over the back of his chair, "Why is it you have to flirt with every woman we see?"

"Come on, Sammy. We're allowed to have some fun, right?" Black shoes flipped to the end of the bed.

"You remember what happened the last time you had some fun with the local authorities? You almost got arrested. You almost got us found out, Dean. You almost blew the case."

Dean rolled his eyes as he worked the navy blue tie loose, "Almost being the key word there, Sammy. It all worked out. We ganked the son of a bitch and blew outta town before they were any the wiser."

Sam rolled up the white sleeves and brought the computer to life with a swipe of his finger, "Promise me you'll be good. We don't need another close call right now.” The seal breaking on a bottle of beer was Sam's only answer. Dean dropped into the cheap motel sofa and flicked on the barely functioning television.


	2. Chapter 2

Once home, Riley took a long hot shower. Even though the water pressure felt like a thousand needles against the bruise on her ribs, she reminded herself that she was alive. Brandon, on the other hand, wasn't so lucky.

It was supposed to be a simple raid. Burst in, confiscate the coke, and be home in time for the Late Show. Turned out their informant was playing both sides; their bond with Andre Gonzales was thicker than blood and Andre didn't take too well to betrayal.

Riley shook her head under the stream of water, trying to get the visual of Brandon lying in an ever growing pool of his own blood out of her head. He was wearing a vest, but he didn't get shot in the chest or stomach. Morgan pulled the trigger three times in rapid succession, all three bullets finding a home in Brandon's soft flesh; two in his left thigh and one in his neck.

_Riley tried to stop the bleeding while the rest of the squad stormed past, gunfire and shouts erupting all around them._

_Thick blood poured out of the wounds as Brandon writhed in agony and confusion on the floor. Brown eyes stared hard at Riley, his mouth opening and closing like a fish washed upon the shore._

_"Shhh, Brandon, it's ok. We're gonna get you out of here. 10-13, officer down! We need a BUS!" Riley wiped the hair off her forehead, leaving a streak of blood._

_"Paramedics are en route. ETA 3 minutes."_

_The color was draining from his face, leaving him pale and damp with sweat. "G- g- go get h- him."_

_Riley clenched her jaw and pressed harder against her partner's neck, she wouldn't let him die. "No. I'm not leaving you." Using her chin, Riley was able to push the button on her walkie. "He'll be dead by then, get your ass here NOW!"_

_"R- Riles… go," Brandon squeezed her wrist with what little strength he had coursing through him._

_Riley choked on a sob when the light began to fade from his eyes. The blood had started to slow with each beat of his heart and she knew that HE knew he wasn't going to walk away from this with a kick ass story and a scar to show off to his in-laws._

_"I'm sorry Brandon." She pressed a kiss to his forehead and pushed off the floor, wiping his blood onto the thighs of her jeans._

_As she ran out of the room, she heard the last rattling breath of Brandon and knew he was gone._

Tears mixed with water as the dam holding back Riley's emotions broke. She knew the statistics about the job. She knew that everyone counted themselves lucky whenever they got to go home that night. She knew about the silly superstitions and prayers everyone said before a raid, but she didn't think that she would lose her partner before 30. 

She cried in the shower until the water ran cold.

Clothed in pink and yellow striped shorts and matching pink tank top, she padded into the kitchen and got everything going for tea.

Irritation flowed through her as she caught sight of the file. Not only did she have to deal with losing her partner, now she had to work with the FBI. No, they weren't FBI. She couldn't put her finger on it, but something wasn't sitting right about this whole thing.

Armed with her tea and the file, she sat at the table and started chipping away at the information.

_Stacey Matthews, aged 22, was on her way home from a friend's baby shower. Her husband reported her missing the next day. Her body was found three weeks later, drained of blood. All family and friends cleared of any involvement._

_Mark Daniels, aged 28, had just dropped off his son for soccer practice. His wife reported him missing the next day. His body was found 6 weeks later, drained of blood. All family and friends cleared of any involvement._

_Phoebe Harrison, aged 23, went to the grocery store. Her mother reported her missing the next day. Her body was found 5 weeks later, drained of blood. All family and friends cleared of any involvement._

_Daniel Carlson, aged 19, was on his way home from a graduation party. His father reported him missing that night. His body was found 7 weeks later, drained of blood. All family and friends cleared of any involvement._

_Harriet Mathers, aged 27, had just dropped off her mother for surgery. Her husband reported her missing that night. Her body was found 4 weeks later, drained of blood. All family and friends cleared of any involvement._

Pictures were looked at next after the police reports. Each body looked the same; arms stretched above their head, bound at the wrists. Their skin had sagged and sunken in as their body decayed, almost looking like they had been mummified.

Riley fished her cell phone from her jacket. "Hey Anna, it's Riley. I need you to run some names through the database for me. Stacey Matthews, Mark Daniels, Phoebe Harrison, Daniel Carlson, and Harriet Mathers. No, that's it. Can you just email it to me? Thank you. Oh, can we keep it just between us? Thanks again, Anna."

A business card slid out from between the pictures.

_Agent Page, Federal Bureau of Investigation, 2111 West Roosevelt Road Chicago, IL 60608-1128._

On the back of the card someone had scrawled a phone number, Agent Page probably. Riley rolled her eyes as the card was set next to her cell phone.

* * *

 

Dean took an abnormally large bite of his bacon double cheeseburger, heavy on the bacon, "Mrewa nppn snwpgb nqp, sbiafggq?"

Sam arched an eyebrow at his older brother, "Dude, what?"

Food was pushed to one side of his mouth, "I asked if you had found anything."

"Sorry, I don't speak cheeseburger-ese."

"Funny."

"Seriously, man. Do you need a bib or something?" Sam threw a napkin across the table.

Dean licked the ketchup and mustard mix off the side of his hand, "I'm all good."

"Uh huh, whatever you say," Sam's eyes fell to the laptop as he worked on his chef salad.

"Besides, it's better than that rabbit food you eat."

"Here we go again."

Several French fries slathered in ketchup were quickly devoured, "I'm just sayin', you eat too healthy. Need a little variety in your diet. Your system's gonna get bored with that lettuce and crap."

"And what about yours? How is your heart even beating on its own anymore?"

Dean wiggled his eyebrows, "Heart of a champion, right here."

"Riiiiight."

Dean laughed through the mouthful of food, his cheeks full of beef made him look like a hamster. "Your research turning up anything?"

Just like that, 180 degree turn. Sam shook his head. "The victims have nothing in common other than they were all born and raised in Chicago."

"There's gotta be something."

"Well, you could always help. There is a lot of information here."

The last bite of the cheeseburger was swallowed and Dean licked his fingers hungrily. "You know I don't do research, Sammy. That's the nerd's job."

Sam rolled his eyes, he hated being called a nerd almost as much as he hated being called Sammy, "Things might go faster if we had extra help."

Dean rolled the wrapper into a ball and shot it into the trash, raising his hands in triumph as it bounced off the edges before falling into the canister. "You heard Bobby, he's got his own case. Rugaru or something."

"I don't mean Bobby."

"And just what do you expect me to tell Detective Messer?"

The sound of Dean sucking on a straw in an empty cup grated on Sam. "You don't have to tell her that we're hunting, we both know how well that usually goes over. Just tell her we need some extra help. That much is true."

"Well, it would give me an excuse to-"

"No, never mind."

Dean laughed, throwing a balled up napkin at his younger brother, "I was going to say get to know her."

Sam gave Dean the patented Winchester bitch face, "Yeah right."

* * *

 

Riley licked her lips as she read silently to herself. "So get this," the brothers shared a small smile before turning their attention to the detective across the table.

"You find something?" Dean tried to keep the smile out of his voice, but it wouldn't have mattered, Riley was too focused on the screen in front of her.

"I had run a check on all the vic's, trying to piece together how they know each other-"

"There isn't anything, I looked," Sam leaned back and crossed his arms as if offended.

An arched eyebrow was the only recognition that Riley heard him, "Anna just emailed me the reports. Turns out they all share the same blood type."

The brothers shared a worried look that Riley didn't see. Dean cleared his throat, "What would their blood type have to do with anything?"

"You tell me, you're the FBI agents," Riley fixed Dean with a steely gaze.

It took him a moment to get his mouth to work properly. "Yeah, we are, but I mean, a blood type, really? That's the reason five people are dead?"

Riley swung her laptop around for Sam and Dean, "It's the rarest blood type there is, AB negative."


	3. Chapter 3

"You got something better, Plant?" Riley slapped the laptop closed with a grunt, the deep ache in her ribs flaring to life with the sudden movement.

Dean noticed the flash of pain as it flooded her delicate features, "You ok?"

"I've had worse." Not really but they didn't need to know that, did they?

She watched as Dean's brows pulled together in concern, his eyes falling to her jaw. "You never said what happened."

Riley crossed her arms as she slowly leaned back in her chair, "You never asked."

"Let me guess, last pair of shoes at Macy's?" Dean smirked, flicking his tongue over his bottom lip.

Even though a stab of pain shot through her jaw, Riley ground her teeth. Sam pulled in a breath through his teeth, "Dude, I'm guessing not."

"No, dude," Riley didn't bother keeping the disdain out of her voice.

Dean swallowed hard, the smirk disappeared instantly, "I uh, I'm sorry."

The detective and the oldest Winchester stared at each other until Dean shifted in his seat, his eyes flicking to the files strewn across the table. Satisfied, Riley cleared her throat, mainly to work at the lump that formed suddenly. "We were on a drug raid, everything was going by the book until we found out too late our informant set us up. My partner was gunned down in front of me and I watched him die. I chased the guy down an alley where he surprised me with a 2x4 to the gut." Riley stood slowly and raised her shirt, stopping just below her breast. Both men stared wide eyed at the deep purple, almost black bruise that colored her skin.

Sam hissed softly as he gestured to Riley's jaw, "Followed by a punch?"

Riley smirked in confidence, "You think I'm in rough shape? You should see the other guy."

It was Dean's turn to smirk, he was liking this girl more every minute. "What'd you do?"

Rather than sit down, Riley worked her way around the island and popped three ibuprofen, "Ruptured a testicle, broke his thumb, three ribs, and his nose."

The brothers shared a look and a smile, "Remind me never to get on your bad side."

Riley met Dean's gaze, "You want me to tell you if you are?"

Sam shook his head. If he didn't intervene, Dean would say something sexist and pig headed and Riley would probably jump over the counter and break his nose. "I'm sorry to hear about your partner."

Riley's eyes softened immediately and she tried to hide them by looking down at the glass of water. "I never really know what to say to that."

Dean's stomach growled. "Aaaaand on that note, who's hungry?"

* * *

 

A red headed waitress approached the booth. "Your usual, Ri?"

"Thanks, Jenn."

Jenn's eyes locked onto Dean and Riley didn't miss the flirtatious smile, "And what can I get for you?"

Dean gave her his best smile, "What's the usual?"

Jenn felt her cheeks grow warm, "Meat omelet with hash browns, extra bacon on the side, large coffee, and orange juice."

"Make that two." Riley rolled her eyes.

Sam nodded as he handed over his menu. "I'll have the same, without the extra bacon."

Dean shot a wink at the waitress, sending the blush down her neck. Riley couldn't hide the snort of disapproval, "Is he always like this?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Unfortunately."

"Hey, I can't help it."

"Anyway, what are you guys thinking? Some sort of cult or religious group that thinks they're vampires?"

The brothers looked at each other quickly. Sam was the first to smile awkwardly, "Vampire?"

"The bodies were completely drained of blood. I know there are some whack-o's out there that think they're immortal because they consume human blood." She could just imagine what the men across from her were thinking.

Dean fidgeted with a napkin, "Sure, could be something like that."

"I know how crazy that sounded."

"Oh, believe me, that's the least crazy thing we've heard."

"Really? Care to elaborate?"

Jenn cleared her throat as she approached the booth. "Three omelets, two with extra bacon, large coffees, and orange juices. Anything else?"

Dean winked and pulled the corner of his mouth up, "No, thank you."

Riley watched in borderline amazement as Dean dug into his meal with the urgency of someone that hasn't eaten in days.

Sam cut into his food and shook his head, "Yes, he's always like this, too."

* * *

 

"I'm beginning to get the feeling she doesn't like me," Dean rolled a pen between his fingers.

Sam looked up from his computer and scoffed, "Nothing gets by you."

"Why not? I'm a likable guy."

"Dude, really? You hit on her the first chance you got and then you offended her."

Dean gave a wave of his hand, "She wasn't offended."

Sam arched his brow high on his forehead, "Really? You asked if she got into a fight over a pair of shoes."

"Whatever. So you think she's right? We looking at vamps?"

"I don't know, could be. You think she's onto something with the blood?"

Dean chewed on the end of his pen as his eyes scanned over the file Riley's Sergeant handed over, "She's got an excellent record. She follows her gut and it tends to pay off."

"You got her file?"

"Waters gave it to me."

"You asked for it."

Dean tapped his finger on a section of her file, "Research, Sammy."

Sam nodded with his chin jutted out, "What'd you find?"

"She had a rough childhood. Barely there parents, from the wrong side of the tracks, got mixed up with the wrong crowd, a few petty crimes. She was on the fast track to bigger and badder things until Hank Waters took her under his wing, got her clean, and on the straight and narrow. She's been with the Intelligence Unit for almost five years."

Sam shrugged, "That's good, right?"

Dean turned the file around and handed it over to his brother, "We might have a problem."

Hazel eyes flicked back and forth as Sam read over the file. A name… scratch that, several names jumped off of the page. Sam felt his stomach drop, "Fuck."

* * *

 

Riley sighed heavily as she dropped onto the couch, a cold bottle of beer in her hand. She ran a hand over her face and up through her hair. The last 50 hours weighed heavily on her and if she let them, they would crush her alive.

She was tired... so tired, but she couldn't sleep. Every time Riley closed her eyes she saw her bleeding and dying partner. The drops of blood that colored his lips. The color drain from his face. The spark in his eyes flickering out. If she kept her eyes closed long enough, she could feel the warmth of his blood on her hands, the way it pulsed with each dying beat of his heart.

The FBI card of Agent Page fell out of her pocket when she grabbed her phone to check the time. There was a phone number embossed in black ink under the address. She punched the numbers and listened to the line ring a handful of times.

A gruff voice greeted Riley, "Director Reynolds."

Familiarity clawed at her, "Uh yes. I'm sorry about calling at this hour. My name is Detective Riley Messer, I'm with the Chicago Police Department, Intelligence Squad."

Reynolds cleared his throat, "What can I do for you, Detective?"

"I have two agents here, Page and Plant."

The voice on the other end of the line chuckled, "Is there a problem with either one of them?"

Riley dug through her mind, trying to figure out why his voice was so familiar, "Not really a problem, sir. I was just calling out of courtesy."

"You're checking up on them. Making sure I actually sent them there."

"No. Maybe."

"Yes, Detective, I sent them there. Multiple murders have taken place in your city."

A warmth spread through Riley's chest. She suddenly remembered the voice on the other end of the phone. "I apologize, Director, but please indulge me."

"Go on."

"You really expect me to believe you?"

"E- excuse me?"

"Come on, Rufus. You could never fool me."


	4. Chapter 4

Rufus just about swallowed his tongue. "You must have me mistaken for someone else, Detective. Name's Reynolds."

Riley pushed off the couch, draining the last drops of amber liquid, "And I'm the Queen of Sheba. Rufus Turner, drop the act right now."

The old hunter ran a hand over his face, groaning, "You got me, girl."

"Damn it, Rufus," Riley dropped the empty bottle into the recycling bin before grabbing another from the fridge.

"Long time no talk." He chuckled forcefully, failing at lightening the mood.

"Don't you try and small talk me. Cut the bull shit. What is going on?"

The sound of whiskey splashing into a tumbler could be heard through the speaker. "Those five people weren't killed by a normal psychopath."

"I'm starting to get that."

"I'm sorry, kid."

"It's not like I expected a phone call, Ruf. It's been a long time."

Rufus drained his glass in one swallow, "How you been?"

Riley chuckled ruefully, "I bury my partner the day after tomorrow. How about you?"

"Oh, kid, I'm sorry. I hope you got the son of a bitch."

"You have any doubt?"

It was Rufus' turn to chuckle, "Not a doubt in my mind."

Riley found herself smiling despite the sorrow that blossomed in her chest. "Back to business, Rufus. Who've you got posing as FBI?"

Another tumbler was filled. "You remember John?"

Riley took a long pull from the bottle. "John... John Winchester?"

"They're his boys, Dean and Sam."

She almost choked on the beer. "John let them go on a hunt? By themselves? He wouldn't do that unless-"

A heavy sigh interrupted Riley, "It happened a couple months back."

The weight of death grew heavier on Riley's shoulders. "I'm sorry, Rufus. What happened?"

"You know John. Anything to save his family."

So much was said with only eight words and Riley felt every ounce of pain in them. "I didn't know him that well, but yeah, anything to save his family sounds like him. So, Dean and Sam, they any good?"

Rufus laughed, "Best hunters I've seen. Present company and Bobby excluded, of course."

"Of course." Riley ran a hand over her face. "So... the question is, do I let them go on thinking that I think they're FBI?"

Riley could hear the smile in Rufus' words. "Up to you, darlin'."

* * *

 

"Man, even Bill and Ellen in here," Sam ran a hand through his hair as he leaned back.

"Dad, too. Keep reading."

"What?" Sam's eyes scanned the page and found his father's name in the next paragraph.

Dean tucked the pen behind his ear, "You remember that summer we stayed with Bobby?"

Sam rolled his eyes, "Which one?"

A rueful chuckle spilled out of Dean. "Touché. I wanna say 1990? Dad thought the werewolf case was too dangerous for all of us so, of course, we stayed with Bobby."

Sam's brows drew together, "Oh yeah. There was a girl there, mousy brown hair, dark brown eyes. Wait a minute, wasn't she Karen's niece?"

"Huh, I think you're right."

"So how'd she end up here?"

Dean ran a hand over his face, rubbing his chin firmly. "I don't know. There's a gap in her file. But that was also the summer Bobby and Rufus killed Karen."

Muffled rock music drifted from Dean's pocket. With an arched brow, he connected the call, "Agent Page."

"Cut the act, Winchester," Sam heard Riley from across the table. "Get over here, now."

* * *

 

Riley was pacing in the living room when Dean arrived. Anger flowed off her in waves and crashed hard against him.

He held his hands up in defense, "I can explain."

Riley forced herself to breathe deep, "Rufus already explained everything."

"You called Rufus?"

The card Dean had slipped into the file was held out. "I believe you call him Director Reynolds."

Dean pulled the card from Riley's grip, "Yeah, well, we couldn't just put Rufus Turner on the card."

Riley rolled her eyes, "Did it ever cross your mind to tell me?"

"We haven't had much luck with that, as you can imagine. The truth tends to make people think we're crazy. And it's not like we lied, completely."

A hand pushed through her hair before resting on the back of her neck. Riley narrowed her eyes as she took a step toward Dean, "You told Hank."

Dean flicked the edge of the card against his thumb. “He actually called us in."

A groan bubbled in Riley's throat, "I don't believe this, he knows. He knows everything and instead of telling me or letting me handle things, he brought in some hunters."

"Hey. We're not just some hunters," Dean's tone held the promise of anger.

Riley sighed heavily, "I know who you are, Dean. You're John and Mary's kids. Thrown into the life at a young age and doing everything you can to make the world a better place for everyone else."

She sounded so tired that Dean was surprised she was still standing on her own two feet. "You sound like you know what it's like."

"More than you know."

Dean slid out of his trademark leather jacket, throwing it against an empty chair, "So tell me."

Riley licked her bottom lip, tugging it between her teeth. The cologne Dean applied earlier that day wrapped around Riley's head with the removal of his jacket. "Where's Sam?"

Boots with snow packed into the treads were placed on the mat by the door, "At the motel. We still don't know what did this."

"You uh, want a beer?"

"Does it come with a story?"

"If you want it to."

"I wouldn't have asked."

Riley disappeared into the kitchen and pulled two long necks from the fridge. A picture of her mother was at eye level when she shut the door. If she closed her eyes, Riley could smell the fresh cut grass drenched in sunshine from that afternoon. Riley swallowed hard at the lump that threatened to turn into a sob.

Dean nodded a thanks as his hand wrapped around the bottle. He waited until she moved to sit on the couch before joining her. He took several drinks before he heard the tell-tale intake of breath that Riley was ready to start talking.

"I grew up in Sioux Falls on the wrong side of the tracks. The only way out was by becoming a CI or death. Dad worked a lot and when he wasn't working, he was drinking. When he was drinking, he was hitting me or my mom. I came home from school one day and found my mom in the living room. She was shaking and my dad's gun was lying on the couch. I didn't say anything, I just ran around the house throwing clothes in garbage bags. I drove us out to my aunt and uncle's place and we stayed there for a couple days."

Riley drank the beer greedily, almost panting when her lips broke free. "She didn't kill him that day. Bullet went through his shoulder, but he didn't die. He knew where to find us. I tried to protect her, but I was knocked to the ground. He punched her in the chest hard enough that her heart stopped beating."

Dean felt the familiar ache of losing a parent blossom in his chest. "I'm sorry."

"Uncle Bobby grabbed his old sawed off shotgun and pulled the trigger. Aunt Karen tried pulling me out of the room, but it was too late. I watched as my dad fell to the floor and bled out."

The urge to wrap his arms around Riley took sudden hold of Dean. He fidgeted with the damp beer label to keep from acting. "What happened after that?"

"Uncle Bobby took them out back and buried them. I stayed with them for a couple years. Nobody came looking for them or me."

"You said you had seen more than your fair share. What aren't you telling me?"

Riley groaned heavily, "It was the summer you and Sam came to stay with us. John had finished his 'business trip' and you hadn't been gone for more than a day when Aunt Karen started acting… weird. I figured it was something to do with the baby she lost or the fact they were constantly arguing about having kids, but… when her eyes went black, that's when I knew. Something wasn't right. Rufus showed up the next morning and tried to get me out of the house, but I ran away and hid in a rusted out Mustang. It was dark when Aunt Karen screamed. To this day, I haven't heard anyone scream like that."

"You didn't."

Using the palm of her hand, Riley rubbed at her forehead. "She was wet, drenched in holy water and sweat. Smoke was coming off of her skin as she wailed. Rufus was reading out of some book, an exorcism he later told me. 'There's no point. Your wife is almost dead.' Oh, you should have seen the look on Uncle Bobby's face."

Dean chuckled, he had a good idea, "I think I know the look you're talking about."

"Rufus completed the exorcism and the demon was gone in a burst of black smoke and screams," Riley sniffed suddenly as tears overwhelmed her voice. "Blood fell from her mouth, but she was still breathing, she was still alive... barely. They laid her on the floor by the fireplace. I ran to her and Uncle Bobby. We held her hands as she died."

Dean couldn't take it anymore. He pressed his hand against Riley's shoulder and squeezed.

"Rufus sat me down and explained everything, but I didn't handle it well. I acted out; I drank, I did drugs, and I would've been lost if Uncle Bobby hadn't called in a favor with Hank. He brought me out here and got me cleaned up. I finished school and became a cop. I didn't realize that Hank knew everything."

"Maybe he didn't know how you'd take it."

The sweep of Dean's thumb against Riley's collarbone was becoming too much. She felt a tug in her stomach and watched as he chewed on his bottom lip. The urge to pull that very bottom lip between her teeth almost overpowered Riley. She cleared her throat and twitched her shoulder. "I'm all grown up now. You think he would know I can handle it."

Dean cleared his throat as his hand fell from her shoulder, "Can you?"

Riley pinned Dean with a cool gaze, "Excuse me?"

"It's an honest question, Riley. Can you handle it? You just said you didn't handle it well when Rufus told you everything."

Riley pushed off the couch with a huff. "I… I was a kid, Dean. I'm 27 now!"

Dean followed suit, his empty beer bottle placed on the table. "Hey, I get it, Riley. I do, ok? Hank is just trying to protect you."

Riley opened her mouth to say something, anything, but no words came out. Dean stood in front of the detective and tucked some hair behind her ear. "You've been through a lot. More than a lot of other people could cope with. Hank cares about you, it's easy to see when he talks about you."

Tears welled and broke the threshold, spilling down her flushed cheeks. Dean caught them with his thumbs as his hands cupped her face.

"Wh- what are you doing?"

Dean smirked subtly, "When was the last time you slept?"

"Uh, what?" A fog swept through Riley's brain and it had everything to do with the hunter towering over her.

"Sleep, Riley. When did you sleep last?" Green eyes swept over Riley's face before they fell to her mouth.

Dean's tongue peeked out between his lips and Riley thought she would fall over right then and there.

"The other night, why?"

"No reason, just want to make sure you're taking care of yourself."

Before she knew what she was doing, Riley had placed her hands against Dean's chest. Her fingers pressed against the dark green over shirt and held onto the thick material. "Dean?"

He loved the way she said his name. He could smell the beer on her breath when she talked and it was almost more intoxicating than actually consuming it. Dean hummed a response as the pressure of her palms against his chest increased.

"This might be the lack of sleep talking, but um, are you going to stand there all night or are you going to kiss me?"

Dean's eyes flashed and even though he knew deep down she was exhausted and wasn't thinking straight, every fiber in his being wanted to kiss her, for starters. When she licked her lips he gave the only response he could.

Riley grabbed the lapels of Dean's shirt when their lips met. Usually in control of these things, Riley handed the reins to Dean. He sucked her bottom lip between his and nipped at the soft skin before darting his tongue across it. Riley stood on tiptoe and opened her mouth to him. Their moans crashed together as their tongues touched. Riley's fingers danced through the short hairs on the back of Dean's neck while his fell to the small of her back. He pulled her against his chest, which rumbled with a groan.

They kissed until they were both breathless.

Dean rested his forehead against Riley's as they both struggled to breathe normally. "I should uh, go."

Riley's body arched into Dean's at the feel of his fingers playing under the hem of her shirt. "Might be a good idea."

Her skin was warm and oh so inviting, but damn it if Dean was going to blow this. He would usually have no qualms about jumping into bed with a woman, but there was something about Riley that made him not act like his normal, horny self. Riley followed Dean to the door and handed him his coat after he slipped his shoes on.

After shrugging into the well-worn leather jacket that belonged to his father, Dean pressed a much softer kiss against Riley's lips. She sighed contentedly and goose bumps spread like wildfire across Dean's skin.

"Get some sleep."

"I'll try."

Riley watched Dean climb into his car, each giving a wave before he pulled out of the drive. It wasn't until the taillights disappeared around the corner that the detective felt something next to her. Riley tried screaming, but it was silenced with a heavy fist to the side of her head.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean and Sam entered Sergeant Water's office with tight smiles.

Hank shook their hands and signaled for them to have a seat. "What can I do for you this morning?"

Sam threaded his fingers together in his lap as his brother took control of the conversation. "She knows, Hank."

The older Sergeant drove a hand through his salt and pepper hair, groaning as his eyes fell closed. "How much?"

"That you knew about her parents, the possession of Karen Singer. That Bobby called in a favor and that you called us in on this."

Steel grey eyes met Dean's crystal green ones, "How'd she take it?"

With hands on his thighs, Dean shrugged, "How do you think? She's hurt that you didn't tell her."

"I was just trying to protect her. She's been through so much-"

Sam interrupted with a careful tone, "Hey, you don't have to explain it to us, man. Trust us, we know."

Hank blew out a rough breath, rustling the many papers that littered his desk. He looked out the windowed wall and drew his brows together. "Have you guys seen her?"

Dean and Sam's eyes followed the Sergeant's. Both men shrugged before Dean answered, "Not since last night."

Hank arched a dark eyebrow at the oldest Winchester, "Last night?"

Sam tried suppressing a smile, but it didn't work so well. "She called after getting off the phone with Rufus. She broke him."

The older man chuckled, "Rufus, huh? Haven't spoken to him in ages."

Absentmindedly, Hank reached for his desk phone and pressed a button that was programmed with Riley's cell phone number. With each unanswered ring, Hank grew visibly concerned. His already gravelly voice was thick by the time he left a message, "Hey Riley, can you call me as soon as you get this? We need to talk."

Dean shook his head when Hank placed the phone in the cradle, "You get the feeling something's not right?"

All three men nodded before Hank stood and pulled on a leather coat, "You want to follow or ride along?"

* * *

 

Dean shifted the Impala into park behind Hank's Dodge Durango. He had turned the emergency lights on the second he shifted into drive; green lights all the way. The brothers fell into step behind the senior officer and glanced around nervously when Hank rapped his knuckles against the door.

"Riley, it's Hank," His voice echoed in the Winchester's ears. Years of smoking and shouting orders had taken its toll on Hank's voice. He knocked again. This time, the door slid slowly inwards; creepy creak and all. All three men pulled their weapons and went on alert. Hank gave hand signals that indicated he was going to lead the way. Dean would follow while Sam took up the rear.

They worked their way through each of the rooms on the main level before heading up. The hairs on the back of Dean's neck stood at attention when he saw the bed hadn't been slept in. Retreating downstairs, they had one more room to check. The basement, just like the rest of the house, was empty.

With his mother of pearl handled gun in his right hand, Dean tugged a phone from the hidden pocket in his leather jacket. With a flick of his thumb, he scrolled through his contacts until he found Riley's information. Ringing drifted in through the still open front door. Dean was the first through the door, followed closely by Sam and Hank. Dean hunkered between the large bushes and held up the ringing phone. The display had cracked when it bounced off the concrete and fell into the snow. Dean looked up at the men with an arched brow.

Hank sighed heavily as he holstered his weapon, "Well, where do we start?"

* * *

 

Riley stretched languidly; muscles pulled, twisted, and relaxed. The blankets that enveloped Riley were soft, thick, and almost overwhelmingly warm. With a groan, she tossed the blankets to the side and slid her legs over the edge of the thick mattress. Riley rolled her toes in the carpet and was rewarded with soft pops. Wiggling her freshly cracked toes, she raised her arms over head and arched her back, groaning with the effort.

With eyes partially closed, Riley made her way into the bathroom. After flushing the toilet, she washed her hands and splashed some cool water on her face. Rosy cheeks and wide brown eyes stared back at her from the mirror. She brushed her teeth and hair before padding down the stairs.

A soft humming halted her just as her toes brushed against the hardwood floor. _No. It can't be._ With her heart pounding, Riley rounded the corner and burst into the kitchen. There, standing with her back against the island, was a woman she hadn't seen in almost 20 years.

"M- mom?" The word was thick on Riley's tongue.

Identical brown eyes twinkled in the sun. "Good morning, sweetheart. Well, I should say afternoon. You slept the morning away," Her tone was playfully scornful.

Riley's heart hitched in her chest and before she could stop herself, she threw herself into the arms of her mother. Lavender, lilac, and baby powder greeted Riley and she pulled them in with a sad moan.

Sandy gave a surprised grunt with the impact of her daughter, but didn't deny her the embrace. She threaded a hand through Riley's hair, "Hey, hey, hey. What's this all about?"

Riley shook her head and tears were absorbed in the cotton shirt her mother wore. "I- I don't know. I think I had a bad dream."

"Well, why don't you sit down and I'll make you some tea," Sandy pushed her daughter at arm's length and tucked some hair behind her ear.

 _I never drink tea in the morning._ "Tea?"

"Doctor's orders. Too much caffeine isn't good for you."

Confusion ate at Riley as she rounded the island. Sitting on the high stool, she groaned when her stomach bumped against the wood. "Mom, I've drank coffee since I was in junior high."

"That may be, love, but things are different now." Brown eyes full of love and compassion stared hard at Riley before they drifted south.

Riley swallowed hard before her own gaze fell. "Holy shit, where did that come from?"

Sandy laughed heartily as her daughter placed a shaking hand over her swollen stomach. "First of all, language. Second of all, honey, if I have to explain how you got pregnant, maybe you're not really ready."

Every emotion rolled through Riley, rocking her to her core. "N- no, I know how people get pregnant. I just… I mean… I can't be pregnant."

The kettle whistled obnoxiously before Sandy pulled it from the heat. A large mug was filled with steaming hot water and a chamomile tea bag. "Must have been some dream if you forgot you were going to have a baby in 5 months."

She  chuckled ruefully. "Humor me. Um, who's the f- father?"

Sandy rolled her eyes and poured herself a mug of tea, "I'm going to take a stab in the dark and say your husband."

Riley raised her left hand and sure enough, there was a pair of silver bands adorning her ring finger. The main one housed one solitary diamond while the other held a row of smaller diamonds. "Uh, I um…. I think… excuse me."

Riley pushed off the stool and out of the room. Her stomach lurched as the bathroom door slammed. She dropped to her knees just in time to empty her stomach into the toilet. After her stomach had no more to give, Riley flushed the toilet and stood on shaking legs.

Cold water soaked into a washcloth before Riley pressed it against her face. _This can't be happening. I- I'm not married, let alone pregnant. None of this makes sense._

Knuckles rapped softly against the door. "Honey, are you ok?"

Riley cleared her throat. "Y- yeah, I'm fine, mom."

"Would you like me to call Dean?"

The door opened fast enough that the air blew Riley's hair back, "Dean. Dean is my husband?"

Sandy pressed the back of her hand against Riley's forehead. "You don't have a temperature."

"I'm not sick, mom. I'm just… it must be the hormones. I'm going for a walk."

"Are you sure? Maybe you should lie down."

Riley was already up the stairs and changing into a pair of jeans that rested below her swollen stomach, a Black Sabbath t-shirt, socks, and well-worn white converse high tops. She gave her teeth a quick brush before thundering down the stairs. A tailored leather jacket was grabbed from the closet and Riley was out the door with her mother's voice calling out to her as she strode down the sidewalk.


	6. Chapter 6

Riley let her legs carry her through the neighborhood and into town. She passed buildings, people, and cars, but none of it phased her; the fog of confusion was thick in her mind. A husband. A baby. Her mother, alive. All of it was almost too much for her to handle.

A male voice drifted through her thoughts, but she ignored it, pushing further down the sidewalk. There was suddenly a horn blasting to her left. Tires squealed as brakes were slammed. Burnt rubber scented smoke drifted through the air and Riley cringed in anticipation as a chrome bumper stopped just short of her knees.

A man emerged from the car. His face crimson and contorted as he screamed obscenities.

"I'm sorry, sir. She hasn't been feeling very well." The same voice that dove into her thoughts moments ago quickly diffused the situation.

A strong hand pressed against Riley's back and ushered her across the street. It wasn't until they rounded a corner into an alley that Riley raised her eyes and found a pair of pond green eyes staring down at her.

Concerned brows drew together and the hand at Riley's back squeezed at the leather jacket.

"What were you thinking, Ri? You could've gotten yourself killed."

Riley inclined her head and ran her thumb over a scar on his stubbled chin. Familiarity of the full bottom lip at her touch clawed at her, "Dean?"

Dean blew out a breath, "You scared me to death, babe."

The suffocating confusion grew at his words. "I- I'm sorry. I wasn't paying attention."

He raised a hand and pushed it through his hair. "It's ok. **You're** ok. I know the pregnancy hasn't been easy on you, but you gotta be careful."

"The pregnancy. Right." She stared down at her swollen stomach and felt a twitch deep down.

Fear flashed across Dean's features, "What's the matter? Do we need to see Dr. Murphy again?"

Riley pressed a hand against the firm skin, "N- no. I'm just tired."

Dean leaned down and lay a chaste kiss against her mouth.

_A police badge and gun, covered in blood. Wide, brown eyes full of fear and death. A man choking on his own blood. Crystal green eyes and a tongue that tasted like whiskey and beer. A man that smelled of leather, gunpowder, metal, and earth._

"Let's get you home, ok?" Riley chewed on her bottom lip and nodded against the hand that was pressed against her face.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean slid the sneakers under the bed as Riley snuggled into the pillow. He sat on the edge and covered her with the sheet, "You need anything?"

Riley yawned loudly. "I don't think so. I just… I'm so confused."

"Dr. Murphy said this might happen."

"He did?" Riley made a mental note to go and see this Dr. Murphy guy.

Dean chewed on his bottom lip and pressed his hand firmly against her stomach, "Post-traumatic stress."

Riley pushed up to her elbow, "From what?"

A sigh filled the silence between them. His tongue darted out to dampen his bottom lip. "The last pregnancy. You honestly don't remember?"

Riley dug through her memories and searched hard, but everything was a jumble. The puzzle pieces didn't fit, no matter how hard she jammed them together. "No, I- I don't."

Dean blew out a harsh breath, "Pre-term labor after you feel down the stairs. They couldn't save him."

Loss and heartache weighed heavily on Riley, it was as if the loss just happened. The memories of that afternoon flooded through her and she couldn't contain the onslaught of tears. Dean pulled Riley against his chest and held her tight, whispering soft assurances into her hair as he pressed kisses against the silken tresses. They sat together until Riley went limp with exhaustion. Dean stood slowly, lowering Riley onto the mattress. After covering her with a blanket, he slid noiselessly out of the room.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean met Sam and Hank at the motel. He had just finished his canvas of the neighborhood and came up empty. Not that he was surprised. It had been late when he left Riley’s house the other night.

Sam looked up from the laptop, "Anything?" Dean shook his head as he shrugged out of his coat.

Hank sighed and ran a hand over his face, "She's been gone for over 48 hours."

A pen twirled between Sam's fingers, "I've been going over the reports of the past victims and I think I have an idea where she might be.” The other two men stood in front of the youngest Winchester with their arms across their chests.

"Where?" Hank’s voice was gruff with worry.

Sam turned the laptop so both men could see a map. "See here? There's an old abandoned warehouse that's been shut down for years. All bodies were found within a mile."

Hank had his phone out and spoke harshly into the speaker. "Give me everything you've got on the old Murphy mill. No. Well, you tell them that you're acting on **my** authority. I don't care about any red tape, cut through it. Anna, please. Thank you."

The brothers shared a look as Hank pocketed the cell phone. Hank shrugged his shoulders, "What?"

Dean felt, for a moment, like he had just listened to his father, "Just sounded familiar is all."

"Ok, so we have a possible location. Do we know what we're dealing with?" Hank was itching to gut whatever it was that had taken Riley.

Two sets of eyes fell to Sam. "I'm looking, alright. We don't have much to go on."

Dean rolled his eyes, "That's never stopped us before."

"Why don't we go and check out the warehouse once Anna gets me the information I requested. We'll go from there."

Both brothers nodded as Hank reached for his jacket, "Who's hungry? My treat."

 

* * *

 

 

Riley dreamt. Death was everywhere she turned. Everything and nothing was familiar. It was as if two sets of reality clashed together and she was stuck somewhere in between. She fidgeted and struggled in her sleep. Just when she would get a flash of something that felt real, it would disappear; leaving her clueless and confused.

 

* * *

 

 

He watched as the woman struggled against her bonds, as her hands opened in search of something. Finding nothing, they clasped closed again. She moaned low in her throat and even gave a shout in surprise or fear. Whatever it was, it would make the blood taste incredible. Another man joined the first. They never spoke audibly. Telepathy was so much easier.

_This one is strong._

_Much stronger than the others._

_But we will break her._

_They always break._

_They always give in._

_Have you drank her?_

_Not yet, brother._

_Her blood is the best I've had._

_Best in a while?_

_Best I've ever had._

_That's saying something._

_I don't know how we'll get over her._

_We always do. The more she struggles, the faster she bleeds._

The men nodded in silent agreement before the first man walked across the room. He stood in front of her and held a blue hand next to her face. Her soft features were contorted and twisted in anxiety, her breathing was ragged and strained while her eyes swept rapidly beneath closed lids.

He closed his eyes and concentrated, bathing the woman’s face in a pale blue light. It was only a matter of moments before her breathing slowed to a shallow and deep rhythm. Her hands fell open as her body relaxed, placing more strain on her rope bound wrists. Taking his place next to his brother, the first man sighed.

_I like the way her blood tastes when she struggles._

_I do too, but we need to be careful. We need to make her last. Our taste isn't going unnoticed._

_I know._

Both men watched the woman to make sure the sedative held before they left her to dream.


	7. Chapter 7

 

Riley stirred in the oppressive warmth, fighting against the thick blanket over her head. Remnants of a dream clung to her as the blanket slid away, as she pulled in cool air fast and ragged through her nose.

_Against her face was a hand of blue. It glowed, dimly at first, until it was all she could see. The light began to recede, giving way to something else; something human._

_Green eyes of impossible description stared down, a peek of tongue between full lips and white teeth. Strong hands against the small of her back, pulling her firm against a solid chest. His skin was hot against hers as their bodies moved together; pushing, pulling, stroking. The pressure built low in her stomach until it was all consuming. She opened her mouth to scream in release-_

Riley sat straight up in bed, her chest heaving as she struggled for adequate air. Every nerve was awake and excited, begging for attention. Blood rushed in her ears as she slowed her breathing, focusing on the ballerina figurine on her night stand.

When everything calmed down to a tolerable level, Riley stood on shaky legs. She grunted with the effort and rubbed absentmindedly at her swollen stomach. The mirror in the bathroom revealed something Riley hadn't expected; her stomach was much, much bigger than last time.

Turning to the side, she lifted up the Black Sabbath t-shirt and let out an audible gasp, "What the hell?!"

Long fingers shook as they rubbed against the tight skin. Riley felt pressure against the palm of her hand as her baby shifted. Never having felt it before, it felt foreign and Riley didn't know whether she should laugh or cry or scream in fear.

A deep throated chuckle interrupted Riley's thoughts, "Look who finally woke up."

Embarrassed, Riley tugged the shirt over her belly and whirled on unsteady legs, "What do you mean? You just put me down for a nap a few hours ago."

Dean's brows pulled together as he came to stand close to Riley, "No, I didn't, Ri. You feeling ok?" He placed a large hand against her forehead.

Confusion ate at Riley, but she shook her head, "No. No, I'm fine. Disoriented, I guess. I had a weird dream."

"Oh yeah? Strippers or midgets?" Dean wiggled his eyebrows and curled his lips in a playful smile.

She couldn't help but smirk at the absurd comment, "None of the above, thank you very much."

One of Dean's hands was on the small of her back while the other came to rest on her neck. Her own hands grabbed the grey material as a wave of nausea rolled through her. "Hey, you ok? Just breathe through it, just like the last one."

With her eyes closed, her stomach tightened and cramped, pain rolling through her limbs. "What… what's happening?" The pain grew and grew until it peaked to the point that Riley almost fell to her knees.

Dean placed a soft kiss on the crown of her head, "You're in labor, hon."

As the pain started to recede, Riley looked into the eyes she just dreamt about, "WHAT?! No. I… It's too soon."

"Unless you have the gestational period of an elephant, I'd say you're right on track."

Riley blew out a puff of air as the last wave of pain ebbed. "How… how far along am I now?"

She watched as confusion washed across Dean's face, "Now? You're 41 weeks. What's going on?"

"41 weeks? No, that's… no," Riley pushed away from Dean and walked slowly into the bedroom. She was 4 months pregnant this morning and now she was going into labor? A hand dove through her hair as she fell to the end of the bed.

Dean was on his knees, his large hands dwarfed by the mass of her stomach, "Maybe we should go to the hospital. Dr. Murphy said-"

"Fuck Dr. Murphy."

"Baby, come on. You've been acting weird the last few months."

Riley tightened her jaw and shook her head. "Don't you feel it, Dean? This," she motioned to the room, the air between them and finally to her stomach, "isn't real. None of it. Something is wrong. Like, really wrong."

Dean looked almost hurt by Riley's words. He took her hand and placed it against her stomach where he had just felt the baby twitch, "Feel him and tell me it isn't real." The baby shifted and pressed hard against her hand, but deep down she knew something wasn't right. It was as if she were stuck inside a dream.

"I'm sorry, Dean. It isn't real." The man on his knees stood suddenly and stormed out of the room, his heavy steps fading as he descended the stairs. Riley was left in a cloud of confusion and cologne as her hand fell to her side.

_Her father was dead on the floor, the pool of blood growing larger by the second. It reached her dead mother's honey blonde hair, dirtying it with even more evidence of death._

_Aunt Karen lay on the floor, gasping for air as her body gave out. Broken bones ripped through vital organs, spilling into the body; destroying it from the inside out._

Riley was on her knees, retching as another wave of pain roared to life.

_Dean stood in front of her and held her face in his hands. "I just want to make sure you're taking care of yourself."_

"I knew it, it **is** a dream. But… how do I get out?" Her question was left unanswered as she was alone in the room.  As the pain receded, Riley dug her shoes from under the bed. Huge belly and all, she tied the laces and crept down the hall.

Dean's voice filtered up the stairs, "I think we should take her in."

Riley's mother's voice followed suit, "Do what you think is best." The memory of her lying dead on the floor assaulted Riley once again.

"I'll call Dr. Murphy and see what he says." Tears threatened to fall, she couldn't stay in the house. Her hand wrapped around the front door handle and she could almost smell freedom when someone cleared their throat. Riley froze.

"Where are you going?"

Riley turned slowly to see Dean, a phone in one hand and a syringe in another. "I- I was going for a walk."

The cell phone slid almost silently into his back pocket before Dean slowly walked toward his pregnant wife. "Don't lie to me, Riley. You were going to leave me."

Fear rose deep from her stomach and gripped Riley's heart with long fingers. "Dean, please. Y- you gotta see that this isn't real."

Dean's eyes were dark when he stopped, "But it can be. Why can't you just let it be? Why do you gotta dig?"

Riley tipped her head to the side, "What do you mean?"

Dean motioned to the living room and it wavered as reality bled through. Furniture and walls full of art faded slowly until they were left standing in an abandoned factory. Walls were licked black from flames that ravaged the building almost a decade ago. Water dripped in a far off room and the smell of decade old smoke hung thick in the air. In that moment, Riley knew exactly where she was being held. She rolled her eyes at herself for what she was about to do. She wasn't a big believer in prayer but right now, she was willing to try almost anything.

_Dean, I… I'm at the old Murphy mill and the people... no, the monsters that have me have stuck me in a dream. I think they're going to kill me._

"You can have the life you've always wanted, Riley. Your mother, a husband, a family; you can have it all."

Riley shook before she stumbled back into someone, "No. I don't want this."

The syringe in Dean's hand faded away. She watched with wide eyes as his hand turned blue, the dim light glowing from his palm. "Deep down, you do."

She grunted in pain and fear as a pair of hands gripped her tight, holding her firm against the unseen assailant. She struggled as the man before her placed his now brightly glowing hand against her head.

"When was the last time you slept?" This time, his voice held humor as the imposter ran through her memory, forcefully lulling her to sleep. "Shhhh, it's ok, Ri. I just want to make sure you're taking care of yourself."

* * *

 

Dean sat up with a grunt of discomfort.

Sam tried, but failed, to stifle a laugh, "Dude, you ok?"

The older brother ripped at the paper that was stuck to his face, "How long was I out?"

"Hour, maybe," Sam arched his back off the chair and stretched, mirroring his brother.

"Where's Hank?"

"Went out for dinner, remember?"

Dean ran a hand over his face, through his hair and over his face again. "Yeah, I guess."

"Hey, you ok, man?"

Dean met the concerned look of his baby brother, "I just had a weird dream."

"Strippers or midgets?" Both brothers laughed softly at the absurd question.

"This is going to sound weird."

"Really, dude? What we do is weird."

Dean yawned as he stretched for the second time. He stood from the table and groaned when his lower back popped. "I think Riley contacted me through a dream."

"Ok, that is weird."

"No less weird than the dreams you been having."

Sam held his hands up in resignation, "I didn't say that. What'd she say to you?"

Standing behind the chair he just left, Dean rested his hands against the top, "It's like… I know she's trying to tell me something about where she is, but the minute I woke up it got all cloudy."

Sam blew a breath that fluttered the pages on the table, "Well… the more you think about it the worse you'll make it."

"Thanks for that."

"We could find a hypnotist."

Dean scoffed, "Yeah, right. Those guys are almost as fake as psychics."

Sam arched a brow at his brother, "What do you want to do?"

The door opened and Hank walked in, his arms overloaded with bags of food, "Sorry it took so long. Anna called while I was waiting for the food. Looks like we might want to check out the mill."

Familiarity crashed through Dean as the door was kicked closed, "That's where she is."

Sam helped Hank with the bags of food, "Now all we have to do is figure out what's got her."


	8. Chapter 8

The last of the cheeseburger wrappers was tossed in the larger bag, which was then tossed into the almost overflowing garbage bin. Dean watched as Sam and Hank scribbled on yet another piece of paper as they hatched a plan.

"So basically, we go in blind."

Sam met his older brother's gaze, "Well… I guess, yeah."

"You kids usually have it figured out, don't you?"

Both brothers shared a small, all knowing smile, "Most of the time." Sam drank the rest of his water in one long pull.

"And the rest of the time?"

Dean beat Sam to the punch, "We get lucky. Damn lucky."

"We should have a backup plan," Hank rubbed at the back of his neck, pressing against the knot that formed when he was under a more than normal amount of stress.

Sam shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know, we might not need one. What if it's staring us right in the face and we're not seeing it?"

Dean stood from the chair and crossed his arms against his chest, "What do you mean?"

A long fingered hand pushed through the mop of brown hair, "I mean…," Sam dug around in their Dad's journal, licking his finger before turning a new page, "what if the answer has been here all along?" Dean and Hank leaned over to look at the journal Sam had just spun around. John's sloppy handwriting was scratched into the page.

_Djinn = genies_

_Powers = read minds / sedate victim(s)_

_Hands and eyes glow blue or tattoos move and extend down their arms when using their power._

_Djinn feed on human blood and can poison their victims with a touch. Their poison causes reality-altering hallucinations and can be used to kill their victims quickly or leave them in a coma-like state while the djinn feeds on their blood for long periods of time. Even though they can read minds, they do not grant wishes. Rather, they send the victim into a fantasy where they believe their wish is granted. Time passes slowly in the fantasy, leaving the victim to believe an entire lifetime has passed._

Dean clicked his tongue against his teeth, "A fucking genie?"

Sam shrugged, pulling the journal back to where he could read it, "Yeah. I mean, djinn have been feeding off people for centuries. It looks like they're all over the Quran."

"Great," the older brother ran a hand through his hair, ruffling the slightly longer than normal strands.

Hank cleared his throat, "Great, yeah. How do we kill it?"

Sam's large eyes scoured over the page before he found what he needed, "Sounds easy enough, silver knife dipped in lamb's blood."

"Easy enough? Where you gonna get lamb's blood?"

Dean chuckled in response, "Hold that thought."

Less than five minutes later, there was a jar of lamb's blood in the middle of the table. Hank stared at it like it was an alien, "I don't want to know."

"No, you really don't," Dean handed Sam and Hank a blade.

* * *

 

A baby was crying. The shrill shriek drilled into Riley's head as she dug her way out from under the blanket, "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming." Riley tamed her hair with a binder from the bathroom sink after she quickly brushed her teeth. No time to look in the mirror as her son's screams grew more persistent. The small bundle was no longer in the center of the crib where he had been laid three hours ago. Rather, he had scooted into the corner and worked the thin cotton swaddling blanket over his eyes.

"It's alright, see? I'm right here, little one. Shhh shhh shhh," Riley picked up her three week old son and cradled him against her chest. His cries fell to whispered tones as he nestled into the crook of her neck, searching for food. The mother breathed in her son as she settled into the rocking chair. In no time at all, Riley was rocking slowly as her son fed from her. Tiny hands with even tinier fingernails kneaded the soft skin in front of him. He made small noises as he ate and kicked his legs excitedly as she patted his butt.

As she was burping him, Dean poked his head in, "Morning, babe."

Riley smiled wide, "Morning, to you too. Where you been?"

Much smaller feet thundered up the stairs and down the hall. "Keeping the rugrat busy."

"Not rugrat, daddy. Me, Brandon," The obviously excited child poked a strawberry blonde head around his father's legs. "MOMMY!"

Riley grunted as the child collided with her legs, "Careful, baby. Don't want to hurt your brother."

Concern washed over the three year old’s features. He raised a dirty and very pudgy hand, resting it atop Riley's. "Ok, baby? Ok?" The baby cooed a moment before a large belch moved the small hairs on the back of Riley's neck.

Dean bent at the waist and kissed his son on the head, "That's my boy." Riley was rewarded with a kiss as well. This one was a little less gentle than the one he gave his son. They moaned softly against each other before Dean pulled back.

"You going to be ok for a little bit?"

Her eyes fluttered open reluctantly, "Yeah. What's up?"

"Just gonna take (B)Brandon(B) here to the park. Let him run off some energy."

"Sounds like a good idea."

Dean pressed another kiss to his son's forehead. "Now, you be good for your mama, Hank. You hear me?"

Riley chuckled when the newborn latched onto his father's not so stern finger and giggled in response.

Not long after father and son stomped out the front door, mother and son drifted into the kitchen. Hank was worn against his mother, tucked into the curve of her chest by a navy blue wrap.

"I wish I would've come up with this idea. Could've made me a billionaire."

A fresh pot of coffee beckoned to the tired mother and before Riley knew it, the sun was high above them as they sat on the wooden swing in the back yard. Hank had fallen asleep almost as soon as Riley sat down with her steaming cup of black coffee. The chorus of birds had lulled Riley into a daydream. One she hadn't had in awhile.

_A man was lying on the ground, blood pooled around him, growing with each beat of his heart. Brown eyes stared up, wide enough that Riley could see the stark white around the iris. His mouth opened, closed, opened, closed. He was confused, trying to breathe, trying to get up._

_Riley cried out as her gun slid into the holster at her hip. Shaking hands did two things at once. One pressed against a gaping wound while the other lifted to her shoulder, ready to call dispatch, "Shhh, Brandon, it's ok. We're gonna get you out of here."_

_**CLICK** "10-13, officer down! We need a BUS!" Panic laced her words as she swept a bloody hand against her forehead._

_"Paramedics are en route. ETA 3 minutes."_

_The man spoke, his tongue struggled with the words. "G- g- go get h- him."_

_Anger chased her fear away. Bastard shot her friend, she was going to kill him if it was the last thing she did, "No. I'm not leaving you."_

_**CLICK** "He'll be dead by then, get your ass here NOW!"_

_"R- Riles… go," despite the fact that he was going to die, Brandon squeezed her wrist hard enough that it hurt._

_She choked on a sob as the light in his eyes began to soften. He wasn't going to make it and it tore her apart from the inside out. She apologized and pushed away from him._

* * *

 

The Impala rumbled to a stop in front of the old Murphy Mill. All the windows had been blown out from the explosion, the glass lost in the dirt long ago. Boots crunched in the gravel, each man giving a nod as they descended upon the burnt and abandoned building. Hank, out of habit, took lead with Sam and Dean not too far behind. Walls were licked black from an electrical fire that claimed the lives of fifty people. The stench of fire and death hung thick in the air, even after ten years.

Rooms were searched and quickly cleared, a thin layer of smoke from the ash dispersed with each step. The final room, tucked in the southern corner, housed the woman they were searching for. She was strung up by her wrists, high over her head. Her hands were purple from lack of blood flow. Dull brown hair hung in her face, chin touching her chest. Her legs had long ago gone limp, placing extra strain on her wrists.

Dean slid to a stop, his weapon falling to the ground. He cupped her face in his hands and when he raised her head, he hissed a breath through his teeth. "Riley?"

* * *

 

Riley jumped in her seat when a breeze touched her face. The now cold coffee fell to the ground, shattering the cobalt blue mug. She shook her head, the dream had felt so real that she was disoriented.

"Riley?" Dean's voice drifted out the window.

"I'm out back."

* * *

 

Dean tapped Riley's face with the palm of his hand, a gentle slap really. Her cheeks had sunken in and her constant blush was now grey. Riley's eyes moved rapidly under closed lids.

"Riley, can you hear me?" Sam and Hank stood with their backs to the duo, keeping an eye out for the djinn.

Hank's gravelly voice echoed in the almost empty room, "How's she doing, Dean?"

* * *

 

Riley stood from the swing and ran a hand through her hair.

"Riley, can you hear me?"

She swore softly when her bare foot brushed against the broken mug, "Yeah, yeah, I hear you. I'm coming."

A louder, more gruff voice joined her husband's, "How's she doing, Dean?"

She stormed into the kitchen, “ **She** is right here!" The room was empty.

So was the living room.

And the entryway.

* * *

 

Dean shook his head. "I- I don't know. Not good, man."

A bloodless blade was produced from the small of Dean's back. Securing an arm around the small woman's waist, the blade ate through the rope like it was made of butter. It was as if she weighed almost nothing when she fell against him. He lowered her to the floor easily. The IV in her side was pulled out quickly, spilling what little blood the tube held onto the floor. She stirred in his arms, groaning gently.

"Hey. Where are you? You gotta come back to us."

A loud grunt from Sam pulled Dean's attention away from Riley. Sam was on the ground at the other end of the room. The blade, once in his large hands was now caked in dirt and ash at the feet of a blue man with glowing tattoos.

"Sammy!"

* * *

 

Pain shot through Riley's arms and she fell to her knees. She groaned as the pain radiated into her shoulders and shot down her arms.

"Hey. Where are you? You gotta come back to us," Dean's voice was thick, laced with concern and it filled her mind.

"I - I don't understand. I'm right here, Dean," someone deep in the room grunted in pain.

"Sammy!"

Riley breathed heavily as familiarity clawed at her, "Sam?"

* * *

 

Hank pulled the trigger on his service weapon until the clip was empty. The bullets had no effect on the djinn that stalked closer to the senior detective. The knife that was meant to plunge into the blue skinned genie lay on the floor out of reach.

* * *

 

Riley cried out as gunshot after gunshot rang in her ears. She covered them with shaking hands,

"DEAN!"

* * *

 

Lamb blood caked blade in hand, Dean stalked behind the djinn that stood over his brother and sank the blade into its spine. The genie fell to the floor with a sickening thud, eyes and mouth wide open and tattoos fading from a glowing blue to a matte black.

"You ok, brother?" Sam grunted, accepting the help off the floor. With a nod, Sam went to help Hank while Dean ran to Riley. Just as he landed on his knees, Riley cried out.

"DEAN!"

The oldest Winchester shook Riley gently by the shoulders, "I'm here, Ri."

* * *

 

Dean was in front of Riley, his hands on her shoulders and indescribable green eyes boring into her own panic filled ones, "I'm here, Ri." She grasped at the front of his shirt, feeling her fingernails catch on the corduroy. It all felt so real. But then again, so did what was happening inside her mind.

"Dean... I... help me."

* * *

 

Hank and Sam were breathless from the fight. The djinn put up a hell of a fight, even knew some kung-fu. Lucky for them, Sam knew just a little bit more. Once chocolate brown eyes snapped open, unseeing and dull. Riley grabbed the front of Dean's shirt.

The senior detective pulled out his phone and with the press of a button, connected with dispatch, "I need a bus at the old Murphy mill. We got a 10-13."

Riley's voice was cracked and broken, "Dean... I... help me."

"Is she still asleep?" Sam crouched down on the other side of the fallen detective.

Both brothers shared a look, "I think so."

"If she's dreaming and we can't wake her up, what's the alternative?"

Dean shook his head, "What if it doesn't work?"

Sam shrugged a large shoulder, "What choice do we have?" Dean sighed heavily and pressed his lips against Riley's ear.

* * *

 

Riley bit her bottom lip as the man before her glimmered, his form wavering.

"Is she still asleep?" Dean's voice was much softer than before. The man in front of her smirked as his hands started to glow.

"I think so."

"If she's dreaming and we can't wake her up, what's the alternative?"

Dean shook his head and his form solidified. "What if it doesn't work?"

"What choice do we have?" Fear filled Riley as the Dean in front of her tightened his grip on her shoulders. A voice that was his filled her mind, even though his lips didn't move.

"You have to die, Riley. Get up. Find a knife and kill yourself. It's the only way."

* * *

 

Dean leaned back and stared down into unfocused eyes. The grip of her fingers on his shirt was like a vice.

Hank pocketed his phone. "Ambulance is on the way." He knelt down and brushed a hand over her forehead; she was cold to the touch. If she didn't wake up soon, she just might die. Riley jerked and bucked off the floor, her feet and the back of her head the only thing left in the dirt. A groan started in the pit of her stomach and built until it was an ear splitting scream.

* * *

 

Riley blinked in disbelief at the words that echoed in her mind. The man in front of her was trying to get her to sleep again, but she wouldn't do it. None of this was real. At that thought, the child against her chest disappeared, leaving the blue wrap loose and empty. In that moment, she remembered everything.

The night her mother shot her father. The day her father killed her mother. The day Uncle Bobby killed her father. The night Aunt Karen died after being possessed by a demon. Everything hit her like a ton of bricks and all the training she has a cop kicked in.

She was on her feet and fighting against Dean... no, the monster in front of her. He blocked most of her punches and kicks, but she got lucky and snapped it's leg in half. It howled in pain as Riley scrambled into the kitchen. She groaned anxiously, softly at first as she searched for the butcher knife she used a hundred times to prepare dinner. Her hand wrapped around the hilt just as the groan built to a low moan. She was actually going to do this. She was going to plunge a knife into her chest.

"No. Don't do this!" The monster behind her hissed in agony and rage.

With the tip of the blade against her heart, she turned and faced the blue skinned monster. The moan quickly built to a scream as she tightened her grip. Sending a quick prayer to the Heavens, she clamped her eyes shut and plunged the blade into her chest.


	9. Chapter 9

 

Riley's mouth felt like every inch of it had been rubbed with cotton. Her tongue felt abnormally thick and she had to work to get enough spit to swallow. Every muscle felt as if it were on fire as she climbed out of the darkness of sleep. There was a weight atop one of her hands and she twitched her fingers to test their limits. Her eyelids fought against gravity as she woke up. Once she won that battle, she found a gruff looking man sitting at her bedside. His slightly wrinkled hand encompassed hers and when he smiled, her already dry throat grew tight.

"Uncle B- Bobby?" Riley's voice was so thick it cracked.

"Hey, kid. How ya feelin'?" Bobby slid the chair closer to the hospital bed. His free hand reached up to brush some hair off her forehead and behind her ear.

Riley squeezed her uncle's hand, or tried; she was tired and weak. "Thirsty." With a soft chuckle, Bobby rose and grabbed a cup of crushed ice from the table against the wall. She had no fight in her and accepted the ice laden plastic spoon, hissing when her dry bottom lip split in the corner. After Riley's tongue and throat no longer felt like sandpaper, Bobby sat down and placed his hands against hers again.

She stared at the older man until his eyes met hers. "What happened to me?"

"What's the last thing you remember?"

Riley's gaze fell to their hands as she focused on her last memory. Her mind was full of fog. She couldn't see anything clearly and what she did see didn't make any sense. "I… I don't know."

"It's ok, kid. Don't force it. After what you've been through, a little memory loss is to be expected."

The detective cleared her throat with a grimace, "What _have_ I been through?"

Bobby sighed, his thumb swept over the dry skin of her knuckles, "You were taken by a djinn, a genie that feeds on blood."

"A fucking genie?"

The older man laughed ruefully. Dean had said those exact words a couple days ago.

_"I'm telling ya, man, a real life genie. A fucking genie!"_

"Yeah, a genie."

Riley narrowed her eyes as she scoured through her memories again. "What did they do? Besides, drink my blood."

"Well, they tied you up, hung you by your wrists," an aged thumb brushed over the dark purple mark that circled both wrists, "and drugged you to keep you calm."

A flash of anger washed through Riley, "They drugged me?" The rhythmic beep from the machine monitoring her heart rate increased.

"Calm down, kid. They didn't use any narcotics. It's part of their power. They used dreams to keep you docile."

Riley pulled air through her nose, her nostrils already occupied by small plastic nubs that hissed with the flow of oxygen, "Tell me you got the son of a bitch."

Another phrase Dean used quite often. "Dean, Sam, and Hank killed them."

Relief, followed by a wave of exhaustion, flowed over Riley. She yawned and fought to keep her eyes awake. "Good, th- that's good."

"Get some rest, kid."

Riley turned her hand over and grabbed onto Bobby's, "Don't go. Please"

"I'm not going anywhere, squirt."

 

* * *

 

 

Bobby walked into the waiting room to find Dean pacing back and forth in front of the large fish aquarium. Green eyes full of concern met Bobby's and they met in the middle of the room.

"How's she doing?" Fidgety hands were shoved deep into well-worn denim pockets.

The older hunter removed his faded blue Singer Auto cap and ran a hand through his hair, "Good. She was awake for a couple minutes, wanted to know what happened."

"How'd she take it?"

"Asked if we killed the son of a bitch." Dean smirked and shook his head. "Doc's in there now, checkin' her vitals. Said we should be able to take her home tomorrow."

The younger hunter sighed heavily, his hand pushed through his hair and grabbed the back of his neck, "Good. That's good, right?"

Bobby nodded, "Why don't you go back to the motel, get some food and sleep. You look like you need it."

"You sure?"

"I'll call you when we check out. You can meet us at her place"

 

* * *

 

 

"Remember Riley, your body is still recovering from the blood loss and the fact we almost lost you. Twice. You're not going to be up and chasing down perps for a while," Doctor Lancaster crossed his arms as he stared down at the detective in the wheelchair.

Riley craned her neck in order to see him fully. "I'll take it easy, scouts honor," three fingers were held up in mock salute.

Bobby cleared his throat as his hands wrapped around the handles. "Don't you worry 'bout her, Doc. We'll keep an eye on her."

Lancaster licked his bottom lip. They had slept together once and as much as he wanted to continue down that path, he knew she didn't. He swallowed hard, his resolve solidifying, "Make an appointment for next week on your way out. We'll see you then."

 

* * *

 

 

Riley was waited on practically hand and foot for a week. Even after getting the all clear from the doctor, Bobby, Hank, Dean, and Sam made sure she didn't overdo it. She still wasn't back at work, but she could finally go to the bathroom without someone standing outside the door. The house was a mess and full of testosterone. Take out containers and wrappers filled her garbage quickly and if she didn't get a salad or something that wasn't cooked in oil, she was going to scream.

Sam nudged her shoulder with his hip as he rounded the table. "Hey, you looking for this?"

Riley stared wide eyed at a kale and arugula chef salad. She just about flew off the chair to give the giant man a hug, "How did you manage to sneak this past Dean?"

A bottle of ranch dressing and fork joined the contraband, "I have my ways. Besides, you lasted a lot longer than I ever have. You've earned it." A moan was stifled by the lettuce, ham, and turkey.

Dean lumbered in at that moment and stopped mid-step, "Really, Sammy?" Sam held up his hands in defense, a brow arched high on his forehead.

Riley swallowed the crisp lettuce and could swear she already felt 20% better. "Sorry Dean, but your burger and fry meal plan isn't cutting it," Another forkful was quickly stuffed into her mouth.

Sighing, he grabbed a beer from the fridge. Sitting down across from Riley, he watched as she ate the salad with the ferocity of someone that hadn't eaten in a couple of days. "Rabbit food? You look down your nose at me and eat…. rabbit food?"

"Hey, don't knock it 'til you try it, bub."

 

* * *

 

 

Riley and Dean sat on the wooden swing that took up most of the porch. The taillights from Bobby's Chevelle had disappeared almost an hour ago.

_"You call me, old man. No more of this cold shoulder crap."_

_Bobby rolled his eyes and tried not smiling. It didn't work very well._

_Riley squeezed the air from his lungs and breathed in the gunpowder, oil, grease, and musty book smell she missed. "Love you."_

_The older man tried to hide the blush that spread across his scruffy cheeks, "You, too, kid."_

The silence between Riley and Dean wasn't awkward, but there was a noticeable tension in the air. They sat far enough apart that they didn't touch, but they each struggled with wanting to.

Riley spoke first, "Go ahead."

Dean's head whipped to the side, "Go ahead, what?"

"Ask the question," She tucked some hair behind her ear only to have the breeze push it back out. He opened his mouth, but closed it quickly. He wanted to know what she dreamt about, but was almost too chicken to ask. The lore said the djinn made you dream about being happy, giving you the life you always wanted to have so you wouldn't want to leave. He swallowed a large drink of beer before meeting her gaze.

"What did you dream about?"

Riley smiled softly. The dream world she lived in for years was remembered a few days after being released from the hospital. Now she struggled with the dream feelings she held for Dean and an imaginary family. She had loved that Dean, deeply.

"My mother was there." Dean's features softened and he rested a hand over hers. He knew the pain of losing a mother. It's a pain he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy.

"And uh, you were there, too."

An eyebrow arched playfully, "Oh, I was, was I?"

Riley rolled her eyes and swatted at his hand, "You want to hear this or not? Because it's not going to be easy.” With a sweep of his thumb over Riley's knuckles, Dean nodded.

Even as her voice shook and tears pricked her eyes, Riley talked, "I uh, I was in there for four years…. maybe more. The first thing I remember is waking up, confused and disoriented. I remember hearing my mom humming this song she would sing me to sleep when I was a baby. And then… I was pregnant and married… to you."

Riley shook her head when Dean opened his mouth to interrupt, "Don't. I'll never get this out if you talk now." Dean nodded, again, swallowing another mouthful of the cool amber liquid.

She told him everything. Even about fighting through the dream world and waking up, if only for the briefest of moments. She told him about being a stay at home mom while he worked at an auto machine shop in town. How they would go grocery shopping on Saturday morning and spend the afternoon at the park with their son, Brandon. Thanksgiving and Christmas was spent eating so much food they felt like they would explode, and then there was the presents. Family photos were taken every birthday.

Riley swiped at a rogue tear. "Finally, Hank was born and… we were happy, Dean. So, so happy."

Dean forced down the lump in his throat. He gave her hand a firm squeeze, "What happened?" The last of the beer was drained from the bottle Riley gripped.

"'You' took Brandon to the park and I had fallen asleep in the back yard with the baby. It must have been when you guys found me because I… I felt when you touched me. I heard your voices and then I remembered."

"Remembered what?"

Her chin quaked, but she couldn’t stop now, "I remembered that none of it was real. My children, my mother, and the man I loved so desperately… they were all in my head. You were all a dream." Both bottles now empty, Dean turned in the seat and set them on the porch railing.

"I wanted to stay. I really, really did. I didn't want to leave my family. I didn't want to leave… you," she rolled her eyes and attempted to get her emotions under control.

His voice was soft, almost as if he would scare her, "Then why did you?"

"Why did I leave? It- it wasn't right. My mom is dead and that family doesn't exist. None of it exists, Dean. No matter how happy I was, no matter how much I love you… **loved** you and the children, it wasn't real." Dean caught the word love, but it didn't bother him like he thought it would. He pulled Riley against him and held her as she cried and placed kisses against her head. Using his planted foot for leverage, he rocked the swing gently.

"It's ok, Riley. Shhhh, it's gonna be ok."

"How can you say that, Dean? I… I'm feeling these things I shouldn't be feeling." Using his first two fingers, Dean lifted her face from his shoulder. Chocolate brown eyes were bloodshot and slightly swollen while ivory cheeks were red and blotchy.

"I would be worried about you if you didn't feel like this, Ri. You were in that world for a lot longer than the three days it took us to find you." Riley shook her head and tried protesting, but her rebuttal was silenced by Dean's lips. Their eyes met until Riley’s fluttered closed. She opened herself for Dean to deepen the kiss. It was several minutes before the pair parted, breathless and panting. Dean ran a thumb along the underside of Riley's bottom lip while her fingers played in the short hairs on the back of his neck. She began to feel self-conscious and shook her head.

Dean rubbed their noses together in an attempt to get her attention, "Hey, it's ok. I mean it." A small smile played with Riley's lips as she felt herself start to relax. Maybe they could actually do this. Maybe he could end up loving her like she loved him. Maybe-

His fingers tangling in her hair grabbed her attention, "Ok?"

"Ok."


End file.
